


Sanzo's Not So Tender Loving Care

by nochick_fics



Category: Saiyuki
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-08
Updated: 2016-01-08
Packaged: 2018-05-12 14:56:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5670049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nochick_fics/pseuds/nochick_fics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sanzo's bedside manner leaves much to be desired.  So do his culinary skills.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sanzo's Not So Tender Loving Care

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rachel_reicheru](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rachel_reicheru/gifts).



> Originally posted to LiveJournal on 4/29/13.

Hakkai was jolted awake by the sound of breaking dishes.  And swearing.  And a gunshot.  
  
Make that _two_ gunshots.  
  
“Sanzo?” he croaked, lifting his head off the pillow--a mighty feat in itself, considering his current state.  “Is everything alright out there?”  
  
Another shattered something or other later, his partner responded ever so lovingly to his concerned query:  
  
“It’s fine.  Shut the hell up and go back to sleep.”  
  
With a chuckle that soon escalated into a fit of weak coughing, Hakkai let his head fall back.  Surely even Sanzo knew that gunfire was not conducive to slumber, but he was not about to risk life and limb to point it out.  Being sick did not automatically grant him immunity to the blond’s pissy disposition, after all.  
  
As the clanging and profanity continued, Hakkai kicked off the thick blanket that shrouded him and breathed a sigh of relief as cool air washed over his limbs.  Not quite even an hour ago, he had been freezing to the point of shuddering but now his bed, his body, hell, the _entire world_ felt like an oven.  He reached behind his head and rearranged his pillow until he found a cool spot and then, exhausted by the effort put forth, let his arms flop down beside him.  After almost a week of dealing with a stuffy nose, among other unpleasantness, Hakkai could breathe a little easier now, and he immediately detected the faint smell of cigarette smoke wafting into the bedroom.  Sanzo was taking great caution not to smoke around Hakkai while he was sick, a generosity he would vehemently deny, with violence if necessary.  
  
There was something else in the air, though, a scent that indicated the heretofore impossible:  Sanzo was cooking.  Hakkai was infinitely touched by the gesture.  And a tad bit frightened.   Mind you, this was a man who usually only ventured into the kitchen to grab a drink from the refrigerator, so the idea of him hovering over the stove (and very likely having shot at it twice) was almost inconceivable.  And that he was doing it for Hakkai?  That was just…  
  
“… so sweet,” the ill man whispered, smiling happily to himself because he was fortunate enough to have such a kind and attentive partner.   Well, kind and attentive deep down.  
  
“Has your fever fried your brain?  What the hell are you smiling at?”  
  
_Way_ deep down.  
  
“Oh, nothing,” Hakkai insisted as he forced the corners of his mouth to stop giving away his adoration.  He glanced towards the door and saw Sanzo standing there with a large bed tray.  “What is that?”  
  
Sanzo shrugged.  “Options.”  
  
Hakkai tried not to appear too eager as he struggled to sit up, while his surly other half approached the bed and set the tray down across his lap.  He opened his mouth to speak and found a thermometer rudely shoved between his lips, most likely in an effort to prevent whatever sappy thing he was about to say that Sanzo surely did not want to hear.  So instead of speaking, Hakkai stared down at the tray, his green eyes widening at the vast array of items it held.  
  
Options indeed!  There was a small dish holding a wide variety of random medications, from cold pills to cough drops to painkillers to antacid (to laxatives???); Hakkai strongly suspected that Sanzo ransacked the medicine cabinet for any sort of pill he could find.  There was a glass of orange juice and another glass of milk, and a cup of warm sake and a cup of hot tea with damn near half a lemon floating in it.  Finally at the center of it all sat a huge bowl of steaming soup comprised of large chunks of chicken and gristle and bone, as well as a few sad looking noodles and some specks of pepper.  Or quite possibly cigarette ash.  It looked… well… hey, it was the thought that counted, right?  
  
“… ow,” Hakkai mumbled around the thermometer.  
  
“What?” Sanzo asked, his face set to scowl.  
  
Hakkai rolled the thermometer under his tongue in an effort to enunciate more clearly.  “I said _wow_.”  
  
“Hmph.”  Sanzo took a seat near the bed and snatched the thermometer from Hakkai’s mouth.  “Settle down, it’s just soup.”  
  
“Of course.”  
  
Sanzo squinted and frowned at the thermometer as if it had somehow wronged him, and Hakkai had to take great measure not to show his amusement.  The man could shoot the wings off a fly at a hundred paces but was blind as a bat when it came to reading anything a foot away from his face.  
  
“Fuck it,” he muttered and tossed it aside.  
  
Hakkai closed his eyes as a cool palm came to rest upon his forehead and slender fingers weaved through his hair.  Unable to help himself, he leaned into Sanzo’s touch and silently awaited reprimand.  But when none came, Hakkai opened his eyes and found the other man staring at him, his stubborn expression just a little less stubborn than usual.  
  
“You don’t seem as warm as you did yesterday.”  
  
“I do feel better,” Hakkai replied.  “I think the worst is behind me now.  I should be back on my feet in a day or two, hopefully.”  
  
“Good.”  Sanzo withdrew his hand, much to Hakkai’s disappointment.  “I haven’t had a decent meal in almost a week now.”  
  
Hakkai was inclined to agree, what with the big, heaping bowl of mangled chicken parts he was about to consume.  
  
He grabbed a spoon and dug in… and then quickly reached for the sake.  Because how did the old saying go?  Feed a cold, starve a fever, and get them both shitfaced.  Or something like that.  Whatever got that taste out of his mouth.  
  
“I’m just going to let it… uh… cool off a bit,” he said.  
  
Sanzo was hardly convinced but he simply shrugged again and leaned back in his seat.  He then lifted his legs over the bed and brought them down across Hakkai’s.  “I’ll give the rest to Goku.  He’ll eat anything.”  
  
Hakkai was not certain that even Goku would be willing to take a chance on Sanzo’s creation.  Nor was he stupid enough to say so out loud.  
  
“Thank you, Sanzo,” he said quietly.  “For doing this.”  
  
The corner of Sanzo’s mouth twitched slightly.  “Be quiet and drink your sake.”  
  
Hakkai smiled and did as he was told.  He peered with affection over the rim of the cup and watched as Sanzo filled the two empty chambers in his revolver, which prompted him to inquire about a topic of vital importance.  
  
“So those gunshots I heard…”  
  
“Yeah, about that.”  Sanzo tucked his gun away and folded his arms defiantly.  “We’re going to need a new stove.”  
  
Hakkai laughed.  And coughed.  But mostly laughed.  
  
“That’s what I thought.”


End file.
